


Stuck On You

by degofg



Series: Sledgefu Week (2019) [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M, Soulmates AU, a god damn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation, first time (holding hands uwu), sledgefu week 2k19, you know what we in the biz call this?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 14:12:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/degofg/pseuds/degofg
Summary: It changed nothing; just stretched that long road to reality a little further than he would have liked for it to be. An unspecified length of time for him to lurch away from hands and dodge skin to skin contact.And then, nothing.Every glance, every brush of knuckle on palm, every accidental bare elbow to a hip, nothing. No snags, no catches, just a whispered ‘sorry’ and an awkward shuffle to the side. In all honesty, Eugene forgot what The Touch was.Then mother fucking Merriel Shelton happened.(Or: When you make skin to skin contact with your soulmate for the first time, you are stuck together for twenty four hours. First Time/Soulmate AU for Sledgefu Week 2019)





	Stuck On You

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm doing this now.

His mother and father had gotten it when they first met; southern gentleman that he was, Edward had taken hold of Mary Frank’s hand and kissed it. Luckily for him, his fingers had made contact first. And what could be lovelier than that; the universe tying you together by the fingertips, knuckles laced together for twenty four hours as you became acquainted with the woman that was meant to be with you?

 

When Eugene realized that something was up with him, that there was something about him that was going to make life infinities more difficult, he had made a decision; on God, he was not going to touch a man.

 

Because if The Touch took hold for any one of them, there would be no running from it, no denying it, no quick joke or shrug that could hide it. Because while Eugene took several issues with the entire concept of The Touch, he had to accept that it was a thing. And that if he was going to get The Touch with anyone, it was going to be with another man. It had been a mixed bag of emotions when nothing had happened with Sidney; one part relief, another part disappointment. It changed nothing; just stretched that long road to reality a little further than he would have liked for it to be. An unspecified length of time for him to lurch away from hands and dodge skin to skin contact.

 

And then, nothing.

 

Every glance, every brush of knuckle on palm, every accidental bare elbow to a hip, nothing. No snags, no catches, just a whispered ‘sorry’ and an awkward shuffle to the side. In all honesty, Eugene forgot what The Touch was.

 

Then mother fucking Merriel Shelton happened.

 

If Eugene was going to take a wild guess at who his soulmate was, Snafu’d clock in at person #3455562712. That combination of false ease and relative disinterest in the happenings of one Merriel Shelton, however, would prove to be his downfall.

 

He hadn’t even been thinking about Snafu. Sawing into his water logged K Rations had been first and foremost. As he futilely worked worked the dull edge of his can opener over the tin, his main prerogative had been popping open a can of mystery meat that bore the stench and resemblance of the bastard child of ground chuck and hot garbage.

 

“I’ll trade you,” Snafu drawled, wincing as Eugene damn near cut himself for the tenth time.

 

When Snafu pulled his kabar out of the can and held it out for Eugene, something inside him gave a kick, every inch of him sparking off like a live wire. He smiled and took the can, mind spinning so fast that he didn’t think anything of it when the pads of Snafu’s fingers brushed over his knuckles.

 

It took an embarrassingly long moment for him to fully realize what was happening. By the time Eugene noticed that Snafu’s hand was fucking glued to his, he was halfway onto his feet and all of six inches away from Snafu’s greying face and slack jawed gape. Eugene made an honest attempt at jerking his hand away, only to bring Snafu’s limp one across the space between them.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eugene whispered.

 

“Oh my fucking God,” Snafu rasped.

 

“Really? Good Lord-” Eugene gave their hands a shake, “oh, that’s just fucking perfect.”

 

“We’re stuck,” Snafu said, and Eugene couldn’t tell who he was talking to between the two of them.

 

“Shit,” Eugene hissed, shoving their hands down and whipping his head around.

 

When no one spared so much as a glance in their direction, Eugene returned to their hands. Maybe they were just unbelievably disgusting right now. Maybe the grime and dirt and blood on their hands were to blame. And that heat in his arm was just a sunburn. And his heart was racing because he hadn’t gotten an uninterrupted five hours rest in three weeks.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Snafu laughed humorlessly.

 

He leaned in to inspect their hands for a second before nodding.

 

“Gon’ be real hard, handling a rifle like that,” Snafu stated, cutting Eugene a glance, “unless you take the top half and I handle the bottom.”

 

Eugene was gonna die. It’d take some maneuvering, on account of his being down one traitorous hand, but he was going to find a way.

 

“Stop eyeballing that rock and think with me for a second,” Snafu said, “it ain’t the end of the fucking world.”

 

“We can’t walk around like this, Shelton.”

 

“Don’t suppose we’ve got much of a choice, Sledgehammer. You’re stuck with me.”

 

Snafu grinned and raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch.

 

“Pun intended,” he added.

 

“I fucking hate you.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

Eugene rolled his eyes closed and groaned. A hand closed down over their fingers, a calloused thumb dragging over the dark green stone on Eugene’s finger. In spite of himself, Eugene ran his own thumb over Snafu’s, cracking his eyes open just enough to catch that mirthful glint in Snafu’s eye. He looked down at their joined hands and gave them a thoughtful turn.

 

“What’chu thinking ‘bout, boo?”

 

“I’m thinking that you need to wash your hands,” Eugene stated.

 

“I’d say that we’re off to a great start.” 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr at fuckoffshelton (pacific side blog) or levijamesn (main blog)
> 
> sorry, dr sledge. don't haunt me please.


End file.
